


The Hound, The Fox and The Rabbit

by ChelleyPam



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, M because I don't know where this is going, Plot bunnies are evil, soul-mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-18 05:16:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4693469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChelleyPam/pseuds/ChelleyPam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After all this time there is finally a sign of Charlotte - now the chase is on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _I have always kind of liked the soul-mate stories. They are an interesting twist. I hope I'm not stepping on anyone's toes by adopting the premise for this story. Sorry in advance if I am._

When she got old enough to ask what the name meant, she didn't understand why it needed to be a secret. Hadn't understood for a long time. Not until she was old enough to finally connect the 'Sebastian Monroe' in beautiful script along her hip bone to the Monroe Republic. 

Her soul-mate was _that_ Monroe.

The Monroe whose men came into their village each quarter and took a portion of their crops. Who drug off young boys to press them into military service. Who carried off girls they thought were pretty or just bent them over the kitchen table in their homes if they didn't want think they were pretty enough to keep long term.

When she'd figured that out, she'd stayed out in the woods and cried until her father had come looking for her. He'd held her and tried to comfort her and told her it would be all right. Philadelphia was over a thousand miles away. The republic was a large place and she was just one girl somewhere on the outskirts. They'd never think to look for her all the way out here.

It was almost another two whole years before she worried about it again. She'd been out hunting by herself, Danny resting up from an asthma attack the day before. Normally she wouldn't have done so, but it was the time of the quarter that the soldiers came to collect taxes, so the girls her age were sent somewhere else to keep busy and out of sight. 

Either the two who came across her were slackers or they'd gotten smarter.

They laughed as they wrestled with her, one forcing a kiss on her while the other yanked at her pants. He was pulling them down as she kicked and bucked, only to release her and pull away with a horrified “Shit!”

His friend looked up in question then followed his gaze to the bared skin. He dropped her as though scalded. “Fuck! Oh, shit!”

She took advantage of their shock, grabbing a small branch nearby and lunging up to conk the closer one on the side of his head, knocking him down and leaving him disoriented. Before the other could act, she reclaimed her crossbow and spun, pulling the trigger and sending a bolt through his shoulder. She pulled up her pants, grabbed her quiver and ran.

She ran and ran and ran.

No one but her family knew about the mark. No one in the village knew about it. But if she went back, she'd likely be found out. She wouldn't put it past the Militia to order every girl of the right age to strip so they could check for their leader's name. Her family would keep silent about it. And they'd understand why she couldn't come back.

The Republic was large, but now they'd have a good idea of who to look for.

~***~

The hair had to go. The first thing they were likely to remember about her was the long, blond hair. It would be better if she had someone to cut it for her, but she didn't have anyone she could trust other than her family. She traded a couple of fat hares for a small mirror and some basic supplies in a nearby village that would have already been visited by the soldiers. They'd have to back track to find her trail there. She kept her eye contact to a minimum and didn't linger, heading back out to the woods where she had the upper hand. She knew the trees and the terrain. Knew where she could find shelter in a cave for the night. She cut her hair with her hunting knife, making a mess of it for sure and tossing the shorn tresses into the fire so that there'd be no evidence for someone to stumble upon during the day.

A few days later she came across a farm where there was laundry on the line to dry. A worn denim jacket that was her size. She switched it out with her leather one, leaving the better garment in the same place for the people to find. It would be a step up on their end, and they never saw her there. They wouldn't be able to tell anyone which direction she took after that.

She changed direction whenever she came across terrain that would mask her passing. She tried to avoid settlements unless she needed to trade for something. She did her best to avoid soldiers.

~***~

“So it was you and Private Thomas, is that right?”

The soldier continued to stand at attention. “Yes, Sir.”

Monroe was lounging behind the massive desk that was carried into the field and set up in his spacious command tent. General Matheson was behind him, adding ice and whiskey to a couple of crystal tumblers as the President questioned the soldier. He'd arrived less than an hour ago from one of the outer garrisons.

“And where is Thomas?”

“He was still in the infirmary when they sent me out here, Sir. Infection set in.”

“That's unfortunate. I'm sorry to hear that.” Monroe rubbed at his chin. General Matheson kept his movements slow as he saw to their drinks. “You know one of the interesting facts about that girl? Her name. Did you get her name?”

“No, Sir. She attacked before we could question her.”

“That's right. It's Charlotte. Charlotte Matheson, to be exact.” He let that sink in, watching the blood drain from the soldier's face. “Yeah, as in _those_ Mathesons. Kind of kismet, really. You see, the General and me were just sergeants in the Marines back then, stationed overseas. We were in one of the few bases that had showers and were cleaning the desert off of us when one of the other jarheads asked me about the new ink. I didn't know what he was talking about, because mine is on my left shoulder blade. And it hadn't been there the day before.” He paused, reaching back to accept his glass of whiskey. “That's how we knew the General's daughter had been born.”

The private swallowed. Hard.

“The other interesting thing about Charlotte is where her mark is.” Monroe took a slow drink of his whiskey, aware of Miles standing behind him, his eyes no doubt pinning the boy in place. “So, Private.. do you want to explain to the General here how it is you saw his daughter without her pants on?” 

The soldier didn't last long after that. Orders were sent for the execution of Thomas as well. They had heard some sporadic rumors of what may be happening in the outer territories, but now that they had a confession from the lips of one of the guilty, they realized it was far more prevalent than previously suggested. They'd need to send Neville and Strausser out there to clean things up and remind the officers of the Code of Conduct.

“She could be anywhere, Miles. It took that bastard three weeks to get here, and that was after they looked for her for another week. Hell, we don't even know if she's still alive!”

Miles was the cold one. He kept his composure in spite of the anger and worry howling inside of him. “Was your mark still there when you got dressed this morning?”

“Of course. I would have said something if it weren't.”

“Then we know she's still alive. It would have faded if she weren't.”

“What if the wrong people find her? What if the fucking rebels do?”

Miles considered this, thinking things over in his head. “I don't think so.”

“We haven't seen her since she was four! How could we possible know what she'd do?”

“Because they didn't find her. She didn't run back home. She didn't run to any of the other villages. She's kept out of sight, which means she's keeping her distance and staying hidden.” Miles considered it some more, thinking on it. “She was armed, likely a hunter. We have Ben and Danny, now, and I'll confirm that when I talk to them, but I'd wager she's staying in the woods. If she hunts them often, she'll know how to move quietly and she'll be able to feed herself.”

Bass rubbed at his left shoulder absently, his eyes staring into the flames visible through the open door of the pot-bellied stove providing what warmth could be had. “So what do we do?”

“You are going to head back to Philly and keep doing your job. After I have a sit down with my big brother and get what information I can out of him about Charlie. Then I'm going to take a company of my best trackers and go find my kid.” 

Miles polished off his whiskey and set the glass down onto the wet bar. He set a large, battle calloused hand onto Bass' shoulder. “I'll find her, Bass. I'm going to bring our girl home.”

~***~

Her head had felt strangely light the first few days without her hair. She also missed the warmth it had provided, since its absence meant that the chill air could reach her neck. Her hack job of a haircut got even more insane as it started to grow back, but by then she had moved far enough south that she felt a bit less on edge. It took forever for her to get as far as Chicago, the first place she reached that was large enough and busy enough that she felt she should be able to just blend in to the crowd. At least for a little while.

She'd dared quick trips to towns here and there, trading meat and a deer a time or two for supplies or a bit of gold. Chicago was big enough she might even risk a room for a night or two with a hot bath and a real bed. She hadn't realized how spoiled she had been with a bed of her own back home until she'd spent weeks sleeping on the ground.

She slipped into the foot traffic of the marketplace, browsing different vendors for anything useful and keeping one eye out for anything that might indicate she'd drawn attention. The group of Militia soldiers coming through with a couple of mounted riders. People scrambled to get out of their way and she was no exception. She may have even stepped back a bit further, putting as many people between her and the soldiers as possible, and listened to everything going on around her.

“Is that?”

“Holy shit.”

“Must be something big going down.”

“It's really him.”

The grizzled man selling hunting knives with antler handles shook his head slightly. “This can't be anything good.”

Charlie swallowed. “Who is that?” There was something about the large man astride the black horse that tugged at her. Something about the dark hair and eyes that seemed familiar.

“That's Miles Matheson. Commanding General of the Militia. President Monroe's right hand man.”

The bottom dropped out of her stomach. General Matheson. General _Miles_ Matheson. 

_Uncle_ Miles. 

And apparently he was in tight with with guy whose name was scrawled so beautifully against the pale skin of her hip. 

This was _not_ good.

“Are you okay, girlie?”

She shook herself and looked up at the vendor. “Yeah. I'm fine.”

“He's a scary son of a bitch, but I haven't heard of anything here in the city. He's probably just passing through to something else. Stopping here to replenish supplies.”

“Yeah. He's just...big.”

The man gave a bark of laughter. “Larger than life, but I doubt he actually gobbles up sweet little things like you.”

 _No. He'd just probably shove me into a wedding dress and drag me to buddy, Monroe._ She managed a smile and headed the opposite direction from the one the soldiers had been headed.

It didn't take long to figure out that getting out of Chicago wasn't going to be as easy as getting in. With the General in residence the Militia had tightened security to something insane. She tried to act casual as she got into the line of people waiting to be cleared through security to leave, but when she saw a soldier pull aside a family of four with a blonde girl who looked to be about her age for further questioning, her gut told her to slip out of line then and there. It could be nothing, but it could also be then looking for her.

_Keep calm. Keep it together. Don't panic._

It took every ounce of her self control not to break into a run. She kept her head down and tried to be just another face in the crowd as she considered what to do. 

Okay. If her uncle was a big, bad general, then he'd probably either stay in the city garrison or in one of the nicer hotels. So...she needed to find a room in someplace not on the higher end of the spectrum. Not that she could afford the super nice places anyway, but she didn't want to worry about her personal safety in one of the seedy joints. Someplace in the middle would be best. Common and where regular people would stay.

She found a place not too far from the marketplace and paid for a night's lodging, a hot bath and to have her laundry done under the name of Maggie Pittman She'd almost used Porter, but figured Miles would know her mother's maiden name if he heard it. The bath was brought up first, with water carried by female maids so she felt comfortable enough to undress behind the screen provided for modesty. 

“I'll bring these back up after they're dry, Miss.”

“Thank you,” she responded to the voice from the other side of the screen. “That'd be great. How late do they serve dinner ?”

“Until nine thirty, though you're pushing it for anything past eight thirty.”

“Noted. Thanks for the heads up.”

“Yes, Miss.” The maid left the room, shutting the door behind her and leaving Charlie to clean up and try to calm her nervousness.

~***~

Amy Towers had been one of the fortunate few to have a soul mate. She'd been fascinated by the beautiful script on the inside of her wrist that read 'Michael Waters' from the time she'd understood what it meant. When she'd gotten old enough to start thinking of boys as something other than gross little brats put on earth to torment young girls, she'd started looking forward to the day she's meet Michael Waters. When she turned seventeen she had started searching every new young male face and making sure her sleeves didn't hide her mark, hoping the next young man would be he.

Then one day her mark had faded and her mother had explained this meant that Michael was gone. He'd died before they'd ever been able to meet. 

Amy had cried for days. She lost enough weight from her lack of appetite that her family had feared she would die from undernourishment. It took her almost a year before she was anything close to functioning again, grief stricken for the great love she would never get to see come to fruition.

She'd felt envy for the pretty young girl who had checked into the hotel when she'd caught sight of the soul-mate mark in her reflection in the coeval glass visible from behind the screen. The poor thing was a bit jumpy, and Amy figured she was in that stage where she was beginning to wonder if she'd ever find her soul mate. She felt envy, but she also hoped the girl's prince wouldn't suffer the same fate as her Michael.

Gossip travels fast, however. And it wasn't long until the people coming in to the bar and restaurant attached to their modest hotel brought the strained whispers about the increased Militia presence since that morning. They were looking for someone. A girl. A young blonde. No one knew for sure what she'd done. Maybe a rebel? Maybe a Militia deserter? Maybe a thief or would-be assassin.

Perhaps she was just tired or unusually slow that day, because it took hearing these whispers for over an hour before Amy remembered what name graced the young girl's hip. Sebastian Monroe. The same as their president. 

And she was blonde. And about the right age.

The plate she had been drying fell from Amy's hands, shattering onto the tile floor of the kitchen and earning her a sharp rebuke.

But if the Militia were looking for her, why didn't she just go and tell them she was there? Anything could happen to either her or Monroe between Chicago and Philadelphia. Clearly he was worried about her safety. He sent _Miles Matheson_ to find her and bring her back!

But her Michael had been a nobody. Just an ordinary man. Sebastian Monroe was someone powerful. Someone important. 

Was the poor thing scared? Afraid she wasn't good enough? That she would be a disappointment to him in some way?

That may be the case of some regular girl trying to catch the eye of some regular but important man. But that wasn't the case of soulmates. They were rare. They were special. They were By-God-And-Heaven Ordained!

Amy quickly swept up the broken plate and threw it away before muttering to the cook that there was an important errand that she absolutely had to run. 

The poor dear would thank her for this one day.

~***~

Miles worked to maintain his self control. He knew he was fucking terrifying when he let that control slip. He had seen it in the eyes of his men when his temper got the better of him. He'd seen it in his brother's face when he'd realized that Ben had not only encouraged Charlie to keep the fact that she had a soul-mate mark and who that mark was for a secret, he had failed to ever explain to her who her father really was.

His daughter didn't even know she was his daughter. 

He understood Ben being pissed about the affair. He'd hated himself for it. Hell, he'd only sent off that DNA test back when the power had still been on because Bass had bugged him about it. When he'd gotten the results, he hadn't even had the courage to open the envelope. Bass had found it, still sealed, in the bottom of his pack when he'd been looking for his grunt candy to give to Jeremy the day they'd saved his life. 

Ben had admitted that he'd known all along. Rachel had told him, even though she'd sworn to Miles she didn't know for sure. 

They'd worked not only to keep Charlie away from her soul-mate, but away from her father. Denied her the truth about herself. And that was why the charges Bass was leveling against his brother were for custodial interference and kidnapping. If Ben wasn't potentially useful in regards to trying to get the power back on, he'd be executed for what he'd done to him and Charlie, brother or not.

He poured more whiskey into his glass, hoping the liquor would numb his bruised heart. Miles Matheson wasn't suppose to have a heart. He was supposed to be darkness incarnate. People quaked in fear at the mention of his name. He couldn't afford to show that he was, under the dark wool of his uniform and the shiny blades of his sword, a regular man.

There was a commotion at the entrance of The Grand. They'd claimed the bar for the Militia for added security. His attention was drawn to where a world weary woman was speaking to his men.

“I need to see the general. I have information for him.”

“Sergeant.” The soldier looked back at him and he motioned for them to bring her over. He sipped from his glass as he watched her approach. Nervous, but not overly so. No obvious signs of weapons or bombs. Her hands chapped as though from frequent work with water and wearing a uniform typical of someone in the service industry such as a house keeper or maid. “You got something for me?”

She swallowed. “Yes, Sir. I...I think so.”

“And you are....”

“Amy Towers. I work at the Chamberlain Hotel.”

“Okay. Let's hear it.”

She licked her lips. “We had a young girl check in today. Maybe nineteen or twenty, looks like she's been traveling for a while. She paid for a bath and to have her laundry done, and I was collecting her clothes to take to the wash. I saw her...her reflection. She has a soul-mate mark her hip.” She licked her lips again. “I'm fairly certain it says Sebastian Monroe.”

Miles spine straightened, his heart picking up a bit in anticipation. “Where?”

~***~

Charlie was truly clean for the first time since she fled. She had taken a damp cloth from her bath and wiped her pack clean of dust and debris before organizing it with room left for her laundry when it came back. She'd sharpened and oiled her hunting knife. Checked over her crossbow and bolts (she'd need to pick up or make some more). She finished up putting new laces into her freshly cleaned and treated boots and was moving to put them on the windowsill to air out when she noted the three Militia members down on the street below. They were just visible past the awning of the hotel and were clearly on the lookout for something.

What the hell?

There was a knock at her door. “Miss Pittman? It's housekeeping.”

She swallowed. “Yes?”

“I have your washing back.”

It had barely been three hours since she'd handed over her laundry. There was no way they had them washed and dried this quickly. “Just a second.”

Charlie grabbed up her boots and shoved her feet into them. If they were at the door, she couldn't go that way. She was on the third fucking floor but the ledge outside her window was a good foot in width. It'd be crazy, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Should she take her pack? It might throw off her balance. That would be bad.

“Miss Pittman?”

“Hang on. I'll be right there.” She padded to the door, took the chair nearby and carefully lodged it under the knob. Just in case the hotel staff handed over the key. That done, she hurried back to the window as quietly as she could and quickly learned that after the halfway point it was the loudest damn window in the world.

The response was a loud, booming male voice. “Charlie! Charlotte Matheson, open this door!”

There was only one person that could possibly be. Well, two, but she only knew for certain that one of them was in town. 

The rattle of a key in the lock followed by the knob being tried spurred her on. She slipped out of the window and hugged the outside of the building, telling herself not to look down as she made her way towards the old fire escape with as much speed as she dared. She jumped slightly as the rattling of the door gave way to booming hits as someone tried to open the door by force. The noise became more muffled the further she got away from the window but she heard the loud cracking and splintering about the same time she reached the escape. She caught something dark out of the corner of her eye and reflex had her looking over to see Miles' dark head leaning out of the window to catch sight of her. It took him less than a second to confirm he was too big to risk the ledge and instead call for the attention of the soldiers below. 

She scurried down the escape, riding the retractable ladder down the final story and jumping to the ground with just enough time to grab a stack of crates and whirl them back towards the now pursuing soldiers. It bought her maybe a second or two as she tore off down the streets.

The trouble, aside from it was less than warm and she's had to flee without her jacket, was that she didn't really know the city. She had only the cursory knowledge of the layout from what little she'd seen earlier. With only that she had to go with the idea of moving towards the more crowded streets in hopes she could manage to get lost in the throng. She'd have to get far enough ahead that they lost sight of her first.

In her favor was that she had plenty of practice running through obstacles. Running through woods wasn't easy. In the dark it was practically suicidal and in the daylight you had to concentrate on your feet and be ready to leap over things. That experience made her a nimble doe compared to her uncle's well trained soldiers. She used it to jump over low riding trolleys, benches and short pallet stacks as she pushed on through the city.

She rounded a corner of a building only to run into a group of four Militia soldiers keeping watch outside of one of the top notch hotels. They saw her haste and came on guard immediately.

“Miss, are you all right?”

Definitely not local boys. Local Militia would immediately assume she was guilty of something.

Thankfully she was breathing hard enough that it was easy to seem distraught. “Some guys back there. They're roughing up some girl!”

They took off in the direction from which she came. Unfortunately, they didn't round the corner before the others already behind her did. “That's her! That's Charlotte!”

Fuck!

She burst out running again but she had failed to not the young, cute guy in a pair of jeans and a tight, long sleeve shirt. He wasn't wearing a Militia uniform, so she didn't immediately peg him as a potential problem. Not until he made a lunge at just the right moment to cut her flight short with strong arms wrapping about her waist and hauling her up off the ground using her own momentum.

“Easy, Charlotte. Take it easy.” He is taller than she is, but who isn't, and a lot stronger than she is. He uses the force from her run to move her back around facing the way she came from, the other soldiers taking up positions around them so that when he lets her down she's surrounded on all sides.

The one out of uniform holds his hands out calculatingly. “It's okay, Charlotte. We're not here to hurt you. We just want to bring you home.”

Home? They meant to Monroe. To the man who let his men run roughshod over the territories and keep the people half starved and terrified. To the man that some cruel twist of fate bound her to even though they've never seen one another. 

And they had her Uncle Miles to back them up.

Her eyes fell to a sturdy longbow the guy talking must have dropped. She lunged and snatched it up, bringing it up in an arch to smack it against plain clothes guy's head before she started using it to try and whack her way out of the soldier circle.

This put them in a bad position. They needed to subdue her, but none of them were willing to make an aggressive move against her. They didn't want to hurt her. And they were starting to draw a crowd. People were gathering around them, watching what was going on with the girl who appeared to be willing to take on over a half dozen Militia soldiers. 

The usual response from them would have been to just shoot her. Who was she that they were trying to be so careful?

She was caught up in the fight, trying to break them apart enough she could run again, trying to move them back towards the direction she wanted. That was probably why she missed the one coming up behind her until it was too late.

Long, strong arms in dark wool wrapped around her and lifted her back up. “Drop it, Charlie. Let it go.” She tried to smash her head back into his face, but he anticipated that move and ducked aside, following that by one hand coming up to catch the side of her head and hold it close to his, his breath moving through her hair and onto her ear.

“Stop it, Charlie. Calm down.” He held her close and tight, the scent of horse and sweat and whiskey surrounding her. “I've got you. It's going to be all right. Everything is going to be all right.”

Only someone who thought they knew her would talk to her like that. She drew in a deep breath that was ragged and let it out with a choked, half-sob. “Let me go!”

“No!” His voice was harsh and sounded almost as choked as her own. “Not ever. Never again.”


	2. Chapter 2

_September 17, 2012_

_Miles is driving and Bass is canceling their tickets. “I can't believe we pulled duty over Thanksgiving this year. I mean, Rachel dries out the turkey every damn time but I was still looking forward to going.”_

_”I can't believe I've got another thirteen years of you acting like a damn dork.”_

_”What do you mean by that?”_

_”You already booked the tickets for both Thanksgiving and for Christmas. It's September, Bass.”_

__”We're there every major holiday that we're stateside, Miles.”_ _

__”Charlie's five. She'll survive one Thanksgiving without us. I don't like it any more than you do, but it's not going to completely crush her.” His phone started ringing. Miles pulled it out of his pocket._ _

__”I just don't like missing it. I don't want her to grow up thinking I don't care. You know, my mark didn't show up until I was twenty-five, when Charlie was born. This could still happen to you, you know.”_ _

__”Greeeeat. Then I'd be thirty years older than mine. One child bride is enough, Bass.” Miles looked at the ID and accepted the call. “It's my brother. Hey, Ben.”_ _

__Bass looked over curiously. He always paid attention when Ben called. It could be important._ _

__”Yeah, me and Bass went out for a couple of beers. We're on way back to base. Why?” He was quiet as he listened. “Ben, slow down. You're not making sense.”_ _

__A chill came over Bass. “What's wrong? Is it Charlie?” He hit the overhead light and craned his neck back as he pulled his shirt collar away far enough he could confirm that the mark was still there. Charlotte Matheson, black letters against white skin._ _

__”What's going to turn off, Ben? What d...Ben?”_ _

__The overhead light and the dash lights started to flicker. The engine started sputtering as though having difficulty running. Bass' phone flickered and died, as did Miles'. As did the car._ _

__As did all the cars._ _

__Everywhere._ _

__

~***~

Three days after Bass returned from the field, Miles' courier arrived at Independence Hall. Jeremy found the president in his office, the missive in one hand as he stared into the fire of the hearth. 

“Everything all right, Sir?”

“Miles found her. She was in Chicago. He says she's skittish as hell. He's gonna work on her on the trip back but says it could take time.”

Baker gave a slow nod. “That's good, though. We know she's safe. Miles won't let anything happen to her. He'll get her here in one piece. Right where she belongs.”

“She ran, Jeremy. I mean, I understand why she ran from those shit heads. They tried to rape her. That was...that was survival. But she ran from Miles. I get that Ben didn't ever come clean with her about who her father really is, but she knew that they were looking for her. She knew who I am, and she still ran. She ran from _me_ , Jeremy. She's afraid of me.”

“Oh.” Baker took in a breath and let it out slowly. “Okay, that's bad.”

“It's not just bad. It's a fucking perversion of everything we're supposed to be to one another. I'm the one person who is pretty much guaranteed to slit his own throat rather than hurt her, and she's afraid of me!”

He didn't need his officer right now. He needed his friend. “Okay, Bass, we'll get through this.” Jeremy moved around to the side of the desk and crouched down so that he was on a more even level with the other man. “Look at me.”

Blue eyes, wet from misery and pain, turned towards him.

“Remember when we were just refugees in a tent city? Trying to scrounge up enough to survive? Her birthday rolled around and you and me and Miles were sharing a bottle of whiskey and you two told me about the first time you saw her? You guys had just gotten back from a one year tour overseas and the moment they cleared you for leave you took the first flight out to Chicago. She was...what...not even six months yet? You said she was colicky and just would not stop crying. Ben couldn't stop her. Rachel could stop her. She was just screaming her head off until you took her. You said she just quieted right down and look up at you. You remember how you said you felt?”

Bass swallowed. “It was the happiest I'd been since I lost my family. First time I felt at peace. Like everything was going to be all right.”

“Yeah, because that's what it's supposed to be like. You and Charlotte, you've been meant for one another since the day she came into this world. They can't change that. Not forever. Not Ben. Not Rachel. This? This is a bump in the road, and it's something you'll both get past. It may take her a little while. You and Miles may have to have a little patience. But that...that feeling you got when you first saw her? That feeling that made her quiet down for you when the people she saw every day couldn't calm her? That's still gonna be there, Bass. It may be covered up a bit, but it will shine through.”

The President of the Monroe Republic closed his eyes and tried to center himself. “I hope you're right.”

 

“I am. I know this as well as I know that you and Miles have been driving me up the fucking wall the past fifteen years. Honestly, I can't wait til she gets here, if only because you will finally stop worrying yourselves sick.”

He finally got a laugh of sorts. A semi-chuckle, but it was progress. “Fuck you, Jeremy.”

“Hey, calling it like I see it. As the closest to both of you, I am glad this is about to be over.”

“Shut the fuck up and fix me a drink.”

Considering the crisis averted, Jeremy jumped to his feet with a salute. “Yes, Sir. Right away, Mr. President.”

~***~

The room at The Grand she was given was quite a bit nicer than the one she'd had before. Miles had taken her off the street and brought her up here when she'd started to cry. He'd refused to let her go, holding her as she let go all the stress that had been building up since she'd taken off. The constant worry that she'd be caught. Now that she had been, it seemed natural to let everything out.

Once she was cried out, he had a bath brought up to her. This tub was larger and he'd had them add some kind of oil made from lavender that made the water smell amazing. She was given special soap in the same fragrance and a bottle of some kind of wine that was brought into the room in silver bucket filled with ice and a fancy glass. He poured the wine for her and left it on a stool by the tub before he left her to her privacy.

The wine was sweeter and easier to swallow than the harsh whiskey Aaron had let her sneak back home. Combined with the hot water, she found herself growing drowsy. When she started having trouble staying awake, she climbed out, dried off and slipped on a simple gown Miles had the hotel staff find for her and climbed into the large bed. 

It was the first deep sleep she'd had in weeks.

~***~

Now that he reflected upon it, Miles would have thought more people would have adapted to the times and gone back to building carriages. They weren't nearly as heavy as cars, so horses had an easier time pulling them, and with the advancements in design they could be made to be much more comfortable.

Fortunately, there was an extremely talented family wood working studio in Chicago who had done just that. He was able to purchase a rather nice enclosed one with seats set up like modified trundle beds so a second set of cushions could be pulled out and locked into place to make the whole interior into one big bed for traveling. Since he wasn't Bass and didn't have a full size bed hauled around with him everywhere he went, it was a nice find to make sure Charlie would have an easier time of it until they reached the train.

While they were moving, however, the inside of is new ride was... quite tense.

He swallowed, pulling his thoughts together. “You know, what you and Bass have, that's rare.” He was looking out the window at the passing scenery but was aware of when her head turned to watch him. “It was estimated that fewer than five percent of people had an actual soul-mate. There could be entire oceans between them and it transcended religious and political lines. Back when the lights were on and there were still computers and the internet, there were websites dedicated to soul-mates. People would post pictures of their marks and search pics of others, looking for their other half. It was almost unheard of for two people to know exactly who their soul-mate was from the start. So unusual that when your name showed up on Bass, our CO rearranged everyone's phone schedule to let us call back to Chicago and no one got mad.”

“Didn't it feel kind of...wrong? I mean, I was a baby and he was twenty-five. He's literally old enough to be my father.”

At least she was talking. “Yeah, there's an age difference. It's not precisely the norm, but it's not unheard of. Hell, people with that much of an age difference is likely more common now than it was back then. I've seen a lot of widowers remarrying to someone much younger.” He considered it for a moment. “It's actually kind of scary how quickly romance is falling out in favor of practicality. I guess marrying for love was just a luxury afforded to a time when life and living were easier to hold onto. Now we're going back to marrying for financial and genetic stability.”

She didn't seem to have a response to that. He heard the creak of the leather seat as she shifted her weight a bit. 

“What you have, you and Bass, that's really something. No doubts. No worry that it will go stale or that he'll cheat. That...may actually be the best thing about it.”

“How so?”

“Before you were born, Bass...” He ran a hand through his hair. “Aw, hell, there's no nice way to put it. Before you were born, he was total slut.” She choked on air. “I love him like blood, but it was ridiculous. If she was female and reasonably pretty, he wanted a piece of her. I swear, I once saw him disintegrate every pair of panties in a five miles radius with one smile. And every other man wanted to break his face for it.”

“Lovely.” She had the dry wit thing down.

“Yeah, but that was before. There hasn't been anyone since you were born. And there have been girls who tried. He's too pretty for his own good, or for anyone else's, but when it comes to soul-mates, there is no one else. Even if you have to wait eighteen years because you're grown and your soul-mate is a newborn.”

He dared to look her way. She was frowning slightly, her arms folded over her middle as she stared at some random spot on the seat across from her. 

“It's a special bond, Charlie.”

She shrugged and looked away. “It's just random chance. It doesn't mean anything. The marks don't even stay most of the time.”

That made him pause. “Where did you hear that?”

“Dad.” She shrugged again. “He said that the whole soul-mate thing was just some oddity of chemistry and didn't really mean anything. That we shouldn't let chance dictate how we live our lives and who we live them with. He always said if I just wait it out that the mark would eventually fade.”

A rumble started in his chest and Miles felt the urge to punch his older brother. “Charlie, that's not how it works. Son of a bitch, I can't believe he...” He took in a breath and let it out slowly, counting to ten.

“Charlotte, that's not how the marks work. Do you know anyone whose mark just faded? Ever met anyone who went through that?”

She shook her head, looking confused. “No, but Dad said he had. Said that he met several.”

“I'm sure he did, if he met them after the power went out. What he didn't tell you is what kind of shape they were in. We have one in the Militia. Was a nineteen-year-old academy graduate, shiny new butter bar with a load of ambition and talent. Was getting itchy because he still hadn't found his other half. Then one day he scared the crap out of his floor mates because he'd gotten up to get ready and noticed his mark was gone.”

“And that freaked him out?”

“Yeah, it freaked him out. Marks don't just fade on a whim, Charlie. They vanish because the other person dies.” He let that sink in for a moment. “Soul-mates are rare, but I'm sure a lot of people lost theirs over the past fifteen years because life became damn hard and harsh. A lot of people have died that wouldn't have before. They've been murdered, they've starved and they've died of illnesses that before medicine could have cured or avoided all together. 

“The past fifteen years have been hell for Bass. For me, too. Your name on his shoulder is the first thing he checks every morning and the last thing he checks before he turns in at night. Checks it at random times during the day as well, whenever he gets nervous or maudlin. Every time he confirmed it was still there, we knew you were still alive. That somewhere you still were, and that we could still find you.”

“He could have found someone else. You said yourself that there were girls interested.”

“Really? How many boyfriends have you had, Charlie?” He waited to see if she would answer. She didn't. “Ever been kissed? Ever even flirted?” Still no answer. “No, you haven't. Because none one else even pinged your radar. They're just people to you, not sexual or attractive at all. That's because deep down you know that you don't need them. There's already someone out there that's yours and yours alone. No one else matters in the least. Just like Bass hasn't even looked at another girl since you were born. And believe me, that was practically miraculous.”

She looked uncertain. Thrown off her balance. 

“They did you a disservice, feeding you that line of bullshit.” Miles shook his head. “And that's not the only one.”

She squared her shoulders, her chin lifting. “Oh? What else are you going to say he got wrong?”

 _Not wrong, Charlie. Flat out lied._ He wanted to tell her. Wanted to rant and rave and scream about how wrong it was that his brother had kept her from him. How he was her father and that he had missed her and longed for her every bit as much as his idiot best friend. 

But...no...he'd bludgeoned her with too much already today.

And he was still more than a little scared.

“You've got enough thinking to do.” He reached out through the window and banged on the wood to signal that he wanted them to come to a stop. “I'll give you some privacy so you can. Besides, if that dumb stallion of mine doesn't get a proper work out he's likely to try and beat up one of the other mounts.”

“Mean horse?”

“War horse. They're trained to see other horses as potential threats and enemies.” The carriage rumbled to a stop and Miles got out. “I'll see you tonight when we stop to camp. Holler if you need anything.”


	3. Chapter 3

“We're gonna need you to testify.”

Charlie looked up from the copy of The Hobbit Miles had gotten her at the book shop near the train station. “Testify for what?”

“About what was going on in the outer territories. We got a confession out of one of the two that attacked you. Before that, we'd only heard rumors. Nothing concrete. We sent to of our most thorough...investigators to check into it. They'll find the girls who were taken and send them back to Philly to testify as well. The soldiers responsible are going to be tried for their crimes and we'll get the girls back to their families.” Miles scratched at his chin. He hadn't had time to shave that morning. “Will probably be some reparations paid as well. Not just to the girls but to the villages. That soldier also indicated overtaxing. They were sending us what they were supposed to and keeping the difference for themselves.”

She frowned. “You didn't know?”

He grimaced. “No, not really.” Miles ran a hand through his hair. “Charlie...we've pretty much had blinders on. Our concerns were keeping the borders safe and finding you. I hate to admit it, but we got a little sloppy when it came to keeping an eye on our own men. That's on me. The militia is mine and the fuck up is my doing. Now I got to clean it up.”

She mulled that over in her mind, the rhythmic click-clack of the train in her ears. “What about the people arrested for failure to meet their taxes?”

“Yeah, we'll need to do something about them, too. Likely there will be a blanket pardon, all charges dropped. If the garrisons hadn't taken more than the actual tax, they likely wouldn't have been unable to meet their demands.” He frowned, still thinking. “I'll need to go over my other officers' files. The ones sent to replace the current garrison will need to be above reproach. Family men and ones with solid reputations. That's gonna be a bitch.”

“Why?”

“Because it means I'll have to replace them with people who are green. This is going to require a major shift in manpower, and that will disrupt our defenses. Georgia might take the initiative to attack.”

He noted the frown between her brows. “What?”

“Why...why talk to me about this?”

“Because you're going to be in a position of authority in the Republic.” He gave her a shrug. “Did you think you're only job is going to be to dress up in frilly things and smile at fancy dinners? I haven't been around you long, but I already know if we tried to relegate you to that you'd probably kill us and burn Independence Hall to the ground. There may be times when me and Bass will both be called away and it will be your job to hold the fort while we're gone. You need to know what's going on.”

Miles watched as the blood drained from her face. “I don't know anything about...I can't do that!”

“Maybe not now, but you're smart. You'll learn. And, having been outside of the Militia you'll have a point of view we don't. If we did, we would have paid more attention to the rumors and acted sooner. Having you there to point out our blind spots will be better for everyone.”

She looked a little green at the idea. He gave her a lopsided smile. “Don't worry about it. You'll do great.”

~***~

_Iraq, 2007_

Miles rolled out of the bunk he'd been assigned while they were here, scratching his fingers through his short hair as he yawned. Bass was already up and about, damn Energizer Bunny that he was. His brother could run on less than four hours of sleep a night. Yet another thing about Sebastian Monroe that pissed their fellow Marines off.

He was still yawning, walking while half asleep, as he grabbed his toiletry kit and made his way to the showers. In a few days they'd be moving out again, relegated to using handi-wipes to get the worst of the grit off for a few weeks if not longer. Best to enjoy the hot showers while they had them.

Pushing his way in, he noted a small group of soldiers crowded around one of the mirrors. Bass was in the center, his blond curls a dead give away. He had his back to the mirror, neck craned around to see the reflection of his back. One of the others saw Miles and let out a low whistle. “Awkward.”

Miles frowned and headed over their way. Bass looked at him, his eyes wide, an expression of...shock? No...wonder was more like it. “What's going on, Bass?”

His brother licked his lips. “I...uh...I think Rachel had the baby.”

~***~

Bass made another check of the room. Maybe the flowers were too much? Did she even like flowers? Maybe she was allergic. That would be bad. He should get rid of the flowers.

No, wait. What if she did like flowers? They were a simple statement of affection that was often expected by women. He should leave them.

But she wasn't completely at ease with their relationship, yet. The flowers may be too pushy. He should get rid of them.

“Sir?”

Bass turned to where Jeremy was standing in the doorway. “Yes?”

“The train is pulling into the station.” 

“Right. Thank you, Jeremy.” He turned back to the dresser, his hand extending.

“Leave the flowers.”

He stopped reaching and left the crystal vase where it was to follow Baker out of the room instead. “How did you know?”

“I was standing there watching you for almost five minutes.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Another internal battle later, and Bass decides to wait here at Independence Hall rather than scramble the guards to try and get to the station before Miles and Charlotte disembark. They'd probably be halfway here before he managed that, anyway. Instead, he poured himself a drink in his office and tried to keep his emotions in check.

He was straining to hear any sound and was aware when they entered the front door of the building. Miles' baritone gave orders for their items to be taken to their respective rooms, his boots sounding out on the polished floors of the hall, drawing closer to the office.

Bass set his glass down and ran his hands over the front of his uniform, making sure his buttons were fastened correctly.

How long did it take to walk down a hall anyway?

The double doors to his office opened and a young woman with honey blonde hair in a horrendous hack job of a cut and curves clad in soft, broken in jeans and a snug fitting tank stepped in, Miles right behind her.

His heart was racing.

“Charlotte, it's nice to finally see you again. You've grown up so beautiful.” Miles was right. She looked skittish. She only came further into the room because Miles put his hands onto her shoulders and gently encouraged her forward. He shot Bass a warning look to proceed cautiously over her head. He fought the urge to grab her and pull her into a kiss and instead kept his hands to himself. “I'm Sebastian. You probably don't remember me.”

She hesitates and then finally shakes her head in the negative. She'd only been a few weeks out from her fifth birthday the last time they'd met. It wasn't surprising that she didn't remember him. Still, it stung.

“You're probably exhausted. You're room is ready, and I can have a bath brought up for you.” She didn't give any indication one way or the other. 

Miles stepped in to break the awkward. “That's actually a good idea, kid. Why don't you get some rest. We'll have the kitchen send up something light for lunch and you can get in a good nap before dinner.” 

He let Miles show her up. The house was designed to have separate bedrooms for the main couple of the house that were joined by a dressing room. The dressing room was now used as a study and sitting room and until a few years before the second bedroom was Miles'. Shortly after Charlie's seventeenth birthday Miles had moved to a different suite and the room had been redone in preparation for Charlie, back when they'd been holding out hope that Ben was just laying low to protect her identity and would do the right thing by bringing her to Philadelphia by the time she was of age.

Bass waited, pacing in front of his desk until Miles returned. “She's a jumpy as a rabbit, Miles.”

“I know.” He shut the door behind him to give them privacy. “It's not good.” 

He laid it all out. Everything about how she had apparently been conditioned to believe the soul-mate mark wasn't anything to be overly concerned about and to expect it to fade away. How she'd clearly never been advised just how devastating the sudden death of a soul-mate before ever having a chance to build a life together could be. She was woefully unprepared for the reality of it all and even encouraged to think the worst of the Republic and of him. 

He felt sick. His knees gave out and he let himself collapse into his chair. “Did no one other than Ben talk to her about it?”

“They weren't supposed to talk about the fact that she had a mark at all. He convinced her that people might hold you against her if they knew, and it isn't like it's somewhere anyone could see.”

“More likely he was afraid someone might alert the local garrison and we'd find out where she was.” Bass swallowed. His beautiful girl, so horribly wronged. “How do we fix this, Miles?”

“We're going to take it one step at a time. The natural pull you two should have to one another should take care of a lot of it. Now that you're under the same roof and will see each other every day, it should go a long way to patching this up.”

“And now that she knows you're her father instead of Ben, that should help as well, shouldn't it?” He looked up to see an uncomfortable expression on his friend's face. “You did tell her that you're her father.” Miles gave a brief shake of his head. “Miles!”

“I hit her with so much already, Bass. And you saw how uncomfortable she is. It just...it felt like it would be too much.”

No, he was afraid. Afraid she'd reject him. “Miles, you need to tell her. She needs to know the truth. Hell, we need to be completely honest with her, because it seems that no one else in her life has been!”

“You're right. I know you're right.” He watched his friend brood, something he was very good at, and waited. “After dinner. After she's rested and has a decent meal in her. How's the boy?”

“Danny? He's surly, though I can't blame him. And he saw the guards taking Rachel away.”

Miles frowned. “Taking Rachel away? Where?” 

It was Bass' turn to shrug and look uncomfortable. “I...didn't take the realization that she lied about not knowing Charlie was yours very well. I had her moved from her suite to the prison. She's in the opposite end from where we put Ben.”

“Does she know we have Ben, yet?”

“She knows we have Danny, but I haven't spoken to her since.”

“So...you've basically had her in isolation for the past two weeks.”

“Yeah. I was pissed. I didn't trust myself with either of them.” He shook his head. “Now I'm extra pissed. I shouldn't be alone with either of them just yet.”

“Yeah, not so sure I should, either.” Miles ran a hand through his hair. He hadn't slicked it like he usually did. “I should give myself a day or two. I need a drink.”

~***~

There was a clear crystal vase filled with early Spring tulips. She'd only seen pictures of them in an old seed and bulb catalog she'd discovered in what had once been used as a garage in the house back in Wisconsin. These were the ones with the frilly edges and dual colors, snowy white with the edges a bright, happy pink. They were beautiful.

She examined the room as she waited for her bath and lunch to be brought up. The furniture was heavy and looked old. But well cared for. Miles had said that this building was some kind of historical land mark and had told her that Sebastian was a history buff. He'd had the antiques dug out of storage and pulled out of museums to set it up. There was a vanity with three mirrors, the outer ones set on hinges so that they could be angled in for better viewing. A silver comb, brush and hand mirror was placed just so. There were also a few delicate perfume bottles with stoppers. She picked up each one and sniffed curiously. Two were light and floral. The other was a warmer mix of spice and earth. Fragrances were a rare luxury since so few actually had the knowledge or time on how to distill the oils from flowers and plants to make them. 

There wasn't much in the way of clothing. Some simple dresses that looked as though they'd been recently purchased, likely after they had a better idea of her size but no real knowledge of her preferences. 

She looked through the dresser and the closet. No Militia uniforms or boots. Nothing indicative of a man's wardrobe. This room was decidedly feminine. So Sebastian didn't automatically assume that they would share a bed. 

A tense knot inside of her loosed somewhat. She had wondered about that.

Her bath water was brought up, the tub itself in a modest bathroom off of the bed chamber. Miles had told her that renovating the baths had been one of Bass' first projects after they had moved into Independence Hall, but bringing up hot water wasn't easy. Cold water was provided by the cisterns on the roof and gravity pulled the water down through the drains, but hot water to warm the bath still had to be brought up from the kitchens. Four soldiers, each carrying two heavy buckets, filed in to pour in the hot water, leaving her to add cold until it was a comfortable temperature. 

A silver tray with a sandwich, apple and a pitcher of iced tea was brought in and placed at a little table with two chairs by the window. Charlie thanked the maid who brought it and locked the door behind the woman to ensure that she would have privacy for her bath. Once she was reasonably sure she would be left alone, she availed herself to the bath, cleaned herself from head to toe, donned one of the simple dresses and helped herself to the light meal. Only then did she try and sleep, the stress of the trip finally getting to her. 

The massive bed proved to be ridiculously comfortable, with a mattress that must have been made from clouds and eight plump pillows of varying firmness for her choosing. With the door still locked, she hugged one of the pillows to her and let herself fall to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

_Six months after the Blackout_

Miles was gently prodding Jeremy's jawline. “Looks like they failed to break the mandible. Still think you've got at least one cracked rib, though. That's gonna take a while.”

“At least I'm still alive. I wouldn't be if you two hadn't come along.” 

“Someone had to do something.” Miles whetted the rough washcloth in the cool water of the stream and resumed patting the scratches clean. “Bass, I've got some grunt candy in my pack. Get it for me, would you?”

“Yeah.” The other man pulled the pack closer and opened it. They both packed like Marines, so he knew where the bottle of 800mg Motrin was likely to be. He pulled it out and tossed it to Miles. His attention, however, was caught by something else. He pulled out a manila envelope, the return address being that of the base hospital. “Miles, what's this?”

Miles looked handed Jeremy a couple of the pills as he looked back over towards Bass. He saw the envelope and paused briefly. “That...that's nothing. Just put it back.”

“If it's nothing, why did you bother packing it?” Bass looked from the envelope to Miles. “This is from Bug, isn't it? You finally did it.”

Jeremy recapped the canteen he'd drunk from to wash the pills down. “Did what? What is that?”

“Paternity test.” The answer fell from from Bass' lips without thought. He looked checked the envelope again. “Miles, the date stamp on this is three months ago. You haven't even opened it!”

The taller man got up and made a move towards his friend. “Bass, give me that.” 

Instead, Bass slipped out of Miles' reach with ease. He turned his back to the other man and ripped the end off of the envelope before he could lose custody of it. He heard Miles bite off an oath and knew his friend had stopped moving. He was probably running his fingers through his hair like he did when he was tense. 

Bass pulled out the single sheet of paper from inside and unfolded it. His eyes moved over the text, moving over the results. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I knew it.” He turned back around, smiling at his brother. “Charlie's yours. I told you so.”

Jeremy watched all of this with unfeigned curiosity. “So you have a son out there, somewhere?”

Miles shook his head. “No, I have a daughter. It's short for Charlotte.” He took the test results from Bass and read them for himself. He knew they would back up what his brother said. “That's why we are headed to Chicago. That's where she's supposed to be.”

Jeremy gave a slight nod, stopped from going too deep by the discomfort of his injuries. “So she's with her mother, right? I'm sure she'll be fine.” Nothing was certain these days, but it was what people were expected to say. “I'm sure she's fine.”

Bass grinned. “Oh, we know she is. There's no doubt.” Bass turned his left shoulder towards their new companion, working the fabric of his denim jacket and shirt down so the mark could be seen. “See? Charlotte Matheson. Clear as day.”

Jeremy blinked at that. “Whoa. Uhm...that's...potentially awkward.”

Miles shook his head. “No, awkward is dealing with this idiot when he gets paranoid about her.”

“You're just as bad, Miles. Might as well be honest with him about that. That way he can decide if he wants to hang around us or take off running.”

Jeremy Baker watched the two men, taking their measure. They were soldiers. They were capable. They had saved his life. And they were motivated by the concern and affection they both had for what he was guessing was a very young child, given that there was no way Miles could be the father of an eighteen-year-old. 

There were far worse people he could team up with. 

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go find your girl.”

~***~

There was a knock on the door before it opened. Miles came in, looking nervous. “I uh...I convinced Bass that expecting you to come down to dinner tonight might be rushing things. You just got here after all.”

She swallowed and gave a nod. “Thank you.”

“Don't mention it.” He tapped a yellowed piece of paper against the palm of his hand. “Can't avoid him forever, though. You should...get some rest tonight. Take a long bath. Get your thoughts together. But, you'll need to join us for breakfast. All the officers know about you, and soldiers gossip worse than housewives. By morning everyone will know you're here.”

Charlie worried the hem of her shirt absently, keeping Miles in her peripheral vision so she knew where he was at all times.

“There's something I need to talk to you about. Something you need to know.”

“What is it?” What more could there be?

“I...” He faltered, licking his lips and taking a deep breath. “I'm....not a good man, Charlie. I don't think I ever was. I've done some bad things in my life. Some of them I did as a Marine for my country. Some of them I did to try and carve out something resembling stability after the lights went out. But... the worst thing I ever did was what I did to Ben. To my brother.”

Her stomach clenched, unease fluttering through her.

“Your mother... I saw her for the first time at a BBQ. Bass and I'd come home on for the wedding and I was supposed to meet my big brother's fiance. She took my breath away, and I was jealous. Envied him. But she was smart. Scary smart, like Ben. It was a good match. So I got dressed up in my tux and stood up there as his best man. Gave a speech at the reception and everything.”

He kept tapping that piece of paper against his hand. 

“I'd come home on leave, when I was stateside, and there'd be Rachel. Still beautiful. Drew me like a damn siren. And... eventually I found out that the feeling was mutual.”

He met her eyes, his expression touched with shame. “The affair happened whenever I was home. Went on for two years. I knew it was wrong, we both did. Finally, I couldn't keep doing that to my brother and knew I had to leave. She caught up with me at the airport when I was going to catch my flight back to base for deployment overseas. Told me that if I told her I loved her, she'd leave Ben and she'd wait for me to get back.”

No. That couldn't be true. Her parents loved each other. She knew they had. She wanted to tell him to stop, but the words wouldn't come out.

“I told her to go back to Ben and start a family, and that's what she did. When he emailed me and told me they were expecting, he didn't go into any details as to time line so I was able to ignore it. Then your name showed up on Bass, and... I had to think about it. We'd come home whenever we could so we could see you and Bass kept saying that it didn't feel right. That he didn't believe you were Ben's.”

Her chest felt tight. She felt herself lower down until she was seated on the edge of the bed, her eyes unable to look away from him.

“We had a friend who worked at the base hospital in the lab. You may not remember that time I came back for Memorial Day, you were barely five. Ben was getting meat ready for the grill. The knife slipped and he cut himself. I helped him clean it up and... I had the urge to find out. Grabbed a Ziploc baggie and stored the gauze there. Then got a swab from you. Took them both back to base and gave them to Bug and he took a swab from me, too.” 

He looked at the paper in his hand. It shook a bit as he held it out to her. “This is what he found.”

Charlie was afraid to look at what was on the paper, but she couldn't stop herself from taking it. She unfolded it and looked at the print, black against paper that had gone somewhat yellow with age. Her eyes took in the text, running over the information until she reached the summary of the results.

She covered her mouth with one hand, her eyes blurring.

“Yeah. Ben wasn't your real father. I am. I always have been.”

“Does he know?”

“Yeah, he knows. I spent all this time thinking he didn't. Your mother put herself in my path to buy Ben time to get away with you and Danny, and when I asked her she said she hadn't known. I should have realized she wouldn't have failed to check.”

Charlie stared at him. “Mom? Dad said she died?”

Miles flinched every so slightly at the 'dad', but shook his head. “No. She's been here with us for the past eight years. She and Ben know something about the power. We've been trying to get her to tell us, but so far she's refused. When men brought Ben to our camp after he was identified as your family, I spoke to him about you. He said that he's always known. That Rachel admitted it to him when you were born and they saw Bass' name on your hip.”

Cold went through her, chilling her. “No. He would have said something. He would have told me.”

“Like he told you the truth about soul mates?” Miles let that hang in the air for a bit. “Why do you think he forbade you to tell anyone else about your mark?”

“Because people don't like Monroe. They don't trust Militia. They would have taken it out on me.”

“Or because someone would have told the nearest garrison where you were. Gotten word to us where you could be found.”

She was breathing hard, shaking her head in useless denial. “Where is he? Is he all right?”

“Bass had him sent to the prison when they arrived.” Her expression must have shown her horror at that. “Don't be mad at him. I would have done the same, as angry as I was. I'd given him the benefit of the doubt that he didn't know. Chose to believe that he would have done the right thing and brought you to me or at least let me know where you were. But he didn't. Rachel and Ben both knew I was your father from the start and they purposefully kept you from me. What's more, they kept you from Bass, and that just isn't done. Soul mates belong to their families until they're both of age. After that they belong to each other. After you turned seventeen Ben should have made preparations to bring you to Philly, or at least sent word to us to let us know where to come to get you. What he did is tantamount to abducting the First Lady. We're lucky Bass kept his temper in check as much as he did.”

She hugged herself, trying to wrap her mind around it all. She saw him start to reach out to her, then stop himself. Good move. She was still trying to come to grips with the shift in family dynamics. She wasn't ready to be General Matheson's Little Girl. “What about Danny?”

“He's here. In the house, where he's comfortable and there's easy access to our personal physician. He's not guilty in any of this. Was fed the same line of bull shit you were.” He scratched his chin in thought. “You want me to send him over? Maybe have the staff bring dinner for both of you in the study. It'd do you both good.”

It would give her time to make sure her little brother was safe. “Yes, please. I'd like that.”

He nodded. “I'll make it happen, then.” He hesitated at the door, a hand on the knob. “Charlie, you're not a prisoner here. You know that, right? This is where you belong. Where you're supposed to be.” He swallowed. “You're wanted. You always have been. Please try to remember that.”

~***~

Rachel looked up as the door to her holding cell opened. Her heart stopped as Ben was brought in and pushed in her direction until he could be shoved down onto the hard bench that doubled as a place to sleep.

Of course they had Ben. He never would have let Danny out of his sight.

She swallowed. “Charlie?”

Ben was watching the guards now standing just outside the open door, the sound of booted feet approaching. “Miles went after her.”

“And he found her.” It was Miles' deep baritone, preceding the appearance of the man himself. “Good to see you again, Ben. Sorry I've been away for so long.”

Rachel got to her feet with a sudden movement. “What have you done with my son?”

The guards grabbed her arms, holding her in place as Miles frowned at her. “Only worried about Danny, Rachel? You always were cold towards Charlie, even when you only had the one child. Perhaps you should have come clean about her parentage in the beginning. At least I would have made sure she knew she was wanted for herself and not just because she made a good nursemaid for her brother.”

“How dare you...”

“No, Rachel!” Miles stepped closer, looming over her like a dark storm. “How dare you? Where do you and Ben get off teaching Charlie that her soul mate mark means nothing? Let her grow up afraid of Bass? And don't try to tell me that you had nothing to do with. She was eleven when you left, more than old enough to start wondering about it.”

The cold eyed blonde he had once thought he loved lifted her chin belligerently. “We were doing what was best for her.”

“Best for her.” He stepped away before he throttled her. The urge to do so was strong. Almost too much so. “You know, looking back, you two never were comfortable with it being Bass.” Rachel glared at him. Ben was unable to meet his eyes. 

“What about you, Ben? She's twenty. You should have brought her here two years ago. Instead you let her continue to believe that Bass was someone she should fear. Do you know how we found out about her? Finally found out where to start looking?” His brother still watched the floor. “Because one of the guys who tried to rape her was dumb enough to report that he'd seen her. He didn't realize that she was someone we already knew, but he and his buddy were sure as hell smart enough to take their damn hands off of her when they saw Bass' name on her skin!”

He stepped up close again. “What were you thinking, Ben?! I get that you were probably pissed as hell at me, but do you have any idea the amount of damage you've done to Charlie!”

“I didn't think he'd still be alive!”

Ben's words hung in the air for a long moment. He was finally looking at him.

“That part isn't on Rachel. It was my idea to try and discredit the soul-mate pairing.”

He had hoped it was Rachel. He could understand her being a heartless bitch. He'd come to grips with that fact about her a while ago. But Ben had always been the good brother. “Why, Ben? Why would you do that?”

“Because of this world we live in, Miles! When Charlie was born, Bass was a soldier. You both were. You were deployed overseas where soldiers were being killed and she was just an infant. And it wasn't like he stopped being a Marine when she was born to take him out of harm's way.”

“We were two years into an eight year hitch! There was no 'just stopping'!”

“I know that!” Ben shook his head. “Then there was the Blackout and people were... just falling on each other like wolves. There was no guarantee that either of you would survive. I met people who had their marks disappear and they were so...empty.”

Miles closed his eyes, knowing what he meant. He thought of his once promising lieutenant who now signed up for every potential suicide mission that came around. He was dead inside. He wanted the rest of him to join the inside. “What did you hope to accomplish by feeding her that line of bull shit?”

“What do we really know about the marks? How much of it is psychological? I thought... maybe if she didn't assign any real importance to the bond then maybe it wouldn't hurt her so much when Bass' name vanished. That maybe she'd be able to move on. But she kept growing and the mark was still there.”

“So why not come clean? Why not bring her in? Why not send for us? Christ, Ben! Do you have any idea how out of our minds we've been these past fifteen years?! I knew she was mine! And I've been scared to death that someone else would find her! What if Texas had gotten wind of her? Or Georgia? Or the Rebels? Did that ever cross your mind?!”

Ben's eyes lowered again. “I didn't know how, Miles. I didn't know how to tell her that everything else I'd been telling her wasn't.... wasn't the whole truth. I didn't know how to tell that I'd lied.”

Miles walked away from his brother, turning his head up to look at the small bit of sky he could see through the half window twelve feet up from the floor. He took a breath and let it out slowly.

“You've both been found guilty of kidnapping and custodial interference in regards to Charlotte Matheson, daughter of Miles Matheson, Commanding General of the Monroe Republic.”

“Miles!” Rachel came up from her seat with a lurch, only to be held back by the guards. 

“Ben, you are convicted on the additional charge of kidnapping the First Lady of the Monroe Republic.”

“Miles! She's not his wife!”

“She's his soul-mate, Rachel.” Miles turned his head to meet her eyes with a cold, almost alien expression. “As far as anyone else is concerned, she's been his wife since the day she turned eighteen. In a case like theirs the ceremony and marriage license is just window dressing. Charlotte is the First Lady of the Republic. Just be grateful that you're sentence is life imprisonment. If you were anyone else, I'd have you both hauled out in front of my firing squad.”

Miles flicked his gaze from Rachel to Ben. “Take him back to his cell. They are not to have any further contact with one another unless ordered otherwise by myself of President Monroe.”

He turned away and strode from the room, Rachel's pleas to see her children falling on deaf ears.


	5. Chapter 5

Danny was well and had been as relieved to see her as she had to see him. The household staff had set up a dinner at a small dining set in the parlor that connected her room with what she learned was Sebastian's. It was an old way of doing things, back when husbands and wives in wealthy pairings didn't always share a bedroom. At least, that's what the housekeeper had told her. Apparently her father had used her room until her seventeenth birthday. Now he had one across hall and a few doors down. Danny has been given one on the other side of the house next to the suite where Monroe's personal physician lives.

He had caught her up on all that had happened since the day the Militia had come for him and Dad. “I thought Uncle Miles was going to shoot him, Charlie. I think he was trying to figure out how to explain to Dad that he wasn't really your father when he just cut him off and said he's always known. Then it turned into a shouting match. Miles wanted to know why he hadn't brought you here years ago, either all of us together so he could keep us safe or at least when you got old enough to marry. Then he took some of his men and rode off to find you and we were brought here with Monroe. I saw them dragging Mom off when they brought me to the house.” He'd swallowed, looking pale. “I haven't seen either of them since, and no one will tell me where they are.”

Charlie had sighed. “Miles says they're both in the prison. They're being charged with kidnapping.”

That had surprised her brother. “But Mom's your parent, too.”

“Yeah, but she came here when I was eleven but didn't bring me with her. And once I turned eighteen I became Monroe's wife for all intents and purposes.” She had shaken her head and pushed the chicken around on her plate. “There seems to be a lot more to this soul mark business than Dad told me.”

“Like what?”

She'd shrugged her shoulder. “I dunno. Miles says that the marks only fade away if your soul mate dies, it isn't something that 'just happens'. And when I met Monroe I...I don't know. I f elt... different.”

“Different how?”

How had she felt? She'd pondered the question for a few protracted moments before offering a weak “Better? Like I'd been hurting and not known I was, and being near him made everything feel all right. I wanted to just run and throw my arms around him. To never let go.”

Danny had watched her from across the table. “Did you?”

“No! I mean... he's _Sebastian Monroe_. You know all the things people say about him. And we've seen the Militia in action.” Recent conversations had pricked at her with that one. “Though, Uncle Miles says that's his fault and they'll be taking steps to clean things up. He says they'll probably want me to testify as to what things are like the outer territories. They may want you to do the same. There was even talk about pardoning all the people who were taken in for failure to pay taxes.”

They had talked for long after their dinner had gotten cold, until a soldier had come in to say it was time Danny went back to his quarters. Charlie would have preferred it if her brother had stayed with her, back home they had still be sharing a room out of habit, but that was just another thing in their lives that would have to change. 

Now she was lying in her large bed, her eyes wide open and unable to sleep. She must have slept too much during the day. 

It felt as though she lay there for another hour, though it could have been as little as fifteen minutes. The massive building that was her new home had quieted down. She'd heard the upstairs guard change a bit ago, booted feet on wood floors as the day guards were relieved and the night guards took position. Miles had checked in on her after Danny had gone to his quarters to make sure she was all right. He was still awkward with her, though that was fair as she was awkward around him, the new family dynamic still trying to settle into place.

Perhaps reading would help. Books were something that Independence Hall was not lacking. Miles and Sebastian had gathered quite the library since they'd made Philadelphia their home and what was on the shelves tended to be determined by what room you were in. Educational fare was usually in the main library and various studies and offices. Books on military tactics and histories were mainly in Monroe's and Miles' offices. Rooms meant for relaxation or visiting were where you could find books that were mainly for entertainment. Miles had a liking for an author named Stephen King and for pulp action. Someone, she supposed it was her husband-to-be (or was that just 'husband'?), liked fiction, fantasy and sci-fi. She finished the book Miles had gotten for her and the page in the back had given the name of the trilogy that followed it. She was certain she'd seen _Fellowship of the Ring_ on the shelf in the parlor.

 

She threw the comforter aside and got up, her bare feet padding as she opened the door connecting her room to the parlor. She didn't think to question the slight band of golden light under the bottom of her door, a clear indication that the lamps were lit in the room. She just walked in and headed to the bookshelf.

“Charlotte?”

She jumped, the smooth voice sending a thrill up her spine. Turning, she found Sebastian sitting in one of the chairs at the small dining table, a stack of papers and a ledger in front of him.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.” He set his pen down slowly. From the way he held himself, he looked as though he were trying to hold himself in place, resisting the urge to stand. “Is anything wrong?”

Charlie swallowed and tamped down the part of her that wanted to take a step towards him. “No, I was just having trouble getting to sleep. I thought I'd get a book to read.” She swallowed again. “I didn't mean to disturb you.” She moved to go back to her room, but stopped when he did stand up.

“Charlotte, everything in this room is as much yours as it is mine. If you want a book, then take a book.” She watched as he came around the table, his movements somewhat slow. “Though I would like it if you'd be willing to sit down and talk with me.” When she didn't immediately bolt, he indicated a high backed chair rather than the sofa, offering her the chance to ensure she would have space of her own.

She hesitated for another moment before taking the offered chair. Bass took the sofa, maintaining a distance between them that wasn't as great as before, but left her wanting to lean closer even more. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Anything. I'm...I've been so worried about you all this time, Charlotte. Ever since the lights went out me and Miles have been trying to find you. I was terrified that something would happen to you. The things we've seen since the Blackout...” He paused, his eyes roaming over her face as if to burn her image into his mind. “I want to know about you. Where you've been. What you've been doing. What your likes and dislikes are. I want to share all the things that we would have shared anyway while you were growing up.”

She raised a brow at that. “Is that something soul mated people did back when there was power?”

“Well, we were something of a special case. Most people didn't know their other half from the beginning.”

“Were you ever there? When I was young, I mean. You asked if I remembered you.”

She though she saw something like hurt go through his eyes. “Yeah, I was. Came to Chicago every chance I could get leave. Would talk to you on the phone or on the computer, too. It wasn't creepy. I wasn't getting hot and bothered over a toddler. In the beginning it was more like...a feeling to keep you safe and protected from anything that could harm you. Feeling pride in your accomplishments.”

“I was a kid. What accomplishments could I possible have had?”

“Being first acorn in your ballet recital.” The answer came out with ease. “I couldn't make it to that, we were on maneuvers, but Ben sent us the video.” He grimaced. “I...may have made a pest of myself showing it to anyone and everyone. And if your father brings it up and tries to make it sound like I was the only one, he's lying. He was just as big of a dork.”

She felt her lips tug into a smile at the idea. He smiled back in response and she dropped the eye contact.

“It's pretty obvious what I've been up to the past fifteen years, Charlotte. What I don't know is what's been going on with you, other than...the steps taken to keep us apart.” There was a tremble in his voice. Sadness, maybe? Or anger? “What have you been doing besides growing up?”

She considered her answer before speaking. “Watching over Danny. He gets asthma attacks. We always shared the same bedroom and I would keep watch over him. Wake up every hour or more to make sure he was still breathing. Keep and eye on him when we were out playing during the day. Sometimes bigger kids would think he was an easy target. Bully him, or try to. I'd convince them it wasn't worth their time.” She waved one arm. “Got this arm broken in three places once because of it, but I knocked out two of the other kid's teeth. Dad was with Maggie by then. She's a doctor, a real one. She was able to set it right so it healed proper.”

“I don't think she came with Ben and Danny. That's a shame. There's a shortage of doctors with proper training these days. They're worth their weight in gold. How did she and Ben meet?”

She shrugged. “He brought her to the camp one day. She's from Britain, was over here for a medical conference in Seattle when the power went out. Spent years trying to find a way to get back home to her kids, but never could. After Mom left to get supp...” She stopped, frowning. “I guess Mom really came here, didn't she.”

“Yeah, she did. Miles admits he handled that poorly, but he didn't expect them to decide to split up and for Ben to bolt with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Miles did catch up with you guys at one time. He was in your house, or at least the house you were living in at the time. He spoke to Ben and Rachel and told them that it was time for them to come to Philly. He was still under the impression that Ben didn't know you were his, that maybe even your Mom didn't know, so he was trying to be diplomatic. He told them were to find his camp and left for them to pack up your things to join him, only Rachel came alone.”

Charlie rolled this over in her mind. “People have been lying to me for a long time, haven't they.” It wasn't a question. She heard him sight and the creak of the leather sofa as he moved close enough to take one of her hands into his own, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah, I'm afraid they have. I gave your father a talking to about that very thing when he got here and I realized he hadn't told you of your connection yet. I won't lie to you, Charlotte. You deserve better than that, and you deserve a hell of a lot more from me.”

“Why do you think they did it? Told me that the mark wasn't anything important, I mean.”

“From what Ben told Miles, he thought he was doing what was best for you. At least in the beginning. He assumed that I'd get killed before you grew up and hoped that if you didn't grow up thinking the soul bond was important that you might not suffer when your mark faded.” He frowned. “It can be ugly when that happens. The few cases I've seen, the living partner is never truly happy again.”

“Still, you're saying he's guilty of kidnapping your First Lady.”

“Because I obviously wasn't dead when you came of age and he didn't bring you or send word to us about where to find you.”

“Is it a law?”

That stopped him. He blinked at her. “What?”

“Not bringing me to you when I turned eighteen. Is there a written law that says someone with a soul mate bond has to be with their other half when they come of age?”

“Well, no. That would be kind of hard to enforce. Most people don't even have a chance to start looking for their partner until they're old enough to take care of themselves.”

“And I was working under the impression that it wasn't a big deal. I mean, I didn't know that the soul bond was that serious or important.”

“Because of the lies Ben told you.”

“Is there a written law against that?”

 

She knew the minute she had him. He looked like she had conked him between the eyes with a rifle butt. “No. I don't think it's ever come up. People just... _know_ it's important. It never crossed anyone's mind that someone might try to mislead a person with a soul mate mark.”

“So how can my fa...uncle be charged for breaking a law that doesn't exist?”

Charlie didn't know much about American history or the Constitution, but Bass did. He knew that document like the back of his hand, and he knew that the third clause of Article One, Section Nine prohibited the creation of _ex post facto_ laws. That is, if someone did something that was wrong but wasn't technically illegal, you couldn't then create the law and then go back and charge that person afterwards. If it wasn't a crime when it happened, you couldn't hold them criminally liable for the action. You could just write a law about it and then hope they did it again afterwards, and punish anyone else who did the same thing after the law was written.

“Okay, I'll give you that one. However, there are laws on the books about custodial interference and parental rights. Both Ben and Rachel are guilty in that matter. Rachel knew Miles was your father and lied about it, and she told Ben.”

“Did Miles ever ask Mom if I was his or did he just keep his suspicions to himself and have the test run?”

“That only gives her a pass up until the moment Miles told her what he knew. She lied to his face and said she didn't know before then when she did and had knowingly sent you out of his reach. They are guilty, Charlotte.”

Okay, point for him. “All right, they did some questionable things. Miles knows he's not innocent, either. He knows he shouldn't have had an affair with his brother's wife. I don't how the other two feel about their actions because I haven't been allowed to see them. Neither has Danny, and him being upset isn't a good thing.”

She watched his expression as he considered this. “All right. I'll talk with Miles about it in the morning, but I'm not going to promise you anything right now. It may take a few days. Your father...he can stay angry for a while. People only think I can hold a grudge. He actually can, and right now he's feeling both guilty and betrayed. He still hates himself for the affair, but he also can't believe his big brother did all this.”

Charlie could understand that. She kept her gaze where her hand was still in his. His skin felt warm and she didn't mind the callouses from his sword work. Her hands were far from smooth thanks to spending years hunting, fishing and cleaning game. It felt...nice, having him hold her hand like this. Comforting. 

Right.

Charlie pulled herself together and slowly removed her hand, letting her fingers keep contact until the last possible second. She wasn't sure she wanted to break contact, but she told herself that she should. “I...I should try sleeping again.”

She could tell he was disappointed, but he only nodded. “You should. I don't think we can keep you shielded from all the prying eyes for too long. Eventually you're going to have to meet your public.”

He rose as she did, whether from manners or the same magnetic pull towards her that she was fighting with him, she wasn't sure. “I'm still trying to wrap my mind around having a 'public'. I'm just some hick kid from Wisconsin.”

“Hey, you father and I were just a couple of dumb jocks from Jasper, Ohio. Well, not as dumb as people thought we were, but still, neither of us came from the kind of family that would be expected to be running a country.”

“So how did you wind up in charge?”

He grimaced. “Accident. I blame your father. I tried to make him president and me be the general, but everyone else with us in the beginning felt he lacked the required demeanor and social graces.”

“Huh?”

“He can be a surly son of a bitch and it makes people scared of him.”

“Oh.” Charlie weighed this before nodding. “I can see that. He scared the hell out of me when I saw him riding into Chicago. It works for him.”

“It does.” His weight shifted as though to step towards her, but he clearly held himself back. “I...   
should let you get to bed. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask.” He waved a hand back towards leading to his own bedroom in illustration. 

She gave him a nod, standing there uncertainly for a protracted moment before making herself turn away and walk back to her room. 

She got back into bed and tried to will herself to sleep again, with just a much success as before. Now her ears strained to hear the slightest noise from the parlor. Time stretched out impossibly long before she heard him move again, the sound of a chair pushing away from the table. She listened as he walked across the floor and saw when the lamp was put out because the slim line of golden light under the door vanished. She heard the creak of the door to his room as he opened and closed it again, finally turning in for the night. 

The dark and the silence stretched on and sleep still refused to come. She could go back to her original idea and get a book, but she doubted that would help. She still felt it, that urge to go to him. It was worse knowing how close he was. There were fewer than one hundred feet between them, just one parlor/sitting area where he apparently worked into the night rather than stay in the well appointed office he'd been in when she'd first arrived. Maybe he could get more done if he was some place not just anyone could come in.

The bell in the clock tower chimed again, signaling another hour lost. 

Charlie sat up in bed and looked at the door. Her mind rolled over the idea before she again threw back the covers and got up, padding over to the door. She didn't bother trying to light any lamps, using the weak glow from the lamp posts outside provide enough ambient light to see by as she crossed the parlor and carefully opened the door to Sebastian's room.

She saw his silhoette as he sat up, apparently no better able to get to sleep than she had been. “Charlotte?”

Suddenly shy, she hesitated for a long moment before making up her mind. She closed the door behind her before walking over to the side of the large bed opposite his and climbing in. She didn't make any move to get closer to him, but rather turned so that her back was facing him and hugged a pillow to her head. 

She felt him watching her in the darkness for a long moment before he shifted around. A moment later he had a large comforter folded at the foot of the bed pulled up and over her shoulders before he lay back down on his side of the bed, making no comment about the change in sleeping arrangements. 

Finally, she was able to fall asleep.

~***~

He'd been awake for a bit now, he just wasn't ready to get out of bed just yet.

In her sleep, Charlotte had moved from her precarious position at the far edge of the bed towards the middle. Something he had done as well. Now she was curled up next to him, her golden hair spreading out over her pillow and somewhat over his, her features relaxed and peaceful, her breathing deep and even. It looked like he had an angel sleeping in his bed. Why would he want to get up and face the world outside of his room?

Still, he had work to do. And he had promised he'd talk to Miles. 

Bass got out of bed as gently as he could, not wanting to wake her. She'd had a stressful few weeks and doubtless needed the rest. He kept quiet as he dressed, carrying his boots out of the room with him and telling the guards to let her sleep as long as she liked before going to Miles' room and knocking on the door.

His friend opened the door with a scowl, his face still half covered in shaving soap. “Bass?”

“Budge over, I need to shave.” He pushed his way into Miles' room and went over to the vanity.

“What's wrong with shaving in your room?”

“Charlotte's still sleeping and I didn't want to wake her up.”

Miles blinked, staring at him. “She came around all ready?”

“Nah, I figure she just couldn't sleep any more than I could. Came into my room about midnight and took the other side of the bed. Still, it's a step in the right direction.”

“So why not just shave in her room?”

Bass paused. “Because I didn't think of it.” He shrugged. “Oh, well, I'm already here.” He took up Miles' shaving cup, adding some hot water and working up lather with the brush, ignoring his friend's eye roll.

They made it down to breakfast together. Miles scowled at the stack of field reports waiting for him. Now that he was home, Bass no longer had to do both their jobs. It was also as good of a time as any for him to discuss what he and Charlotte spoke about before they finally crashed.

“She has a point, Miles. At least about the part involving our connection. I don't like it, but she does have a point. Technically there is no written law that prevents a parent from down playing the soul mark's significance nor is there one that says you have to be with your soul mate once you're of age. The first may be something we should consider, but the second is unenforceable. When you find them you find them. Me being aware of who she was from birth was extraordinary luck.”

His brother did not look happy about the idea, but the argument was sound. “Okay, so technically we can't charge Ben for kidnapping the First Lady, but there still is the custodial interference.”

“Yes, there is, though maybe you should handle this on the family level?” Bass held up his hands when Miles glared at him. “Just...think it over for a day or two. I'm not saying they were wrong, but Charlotte pointed out that the stress isn't going to do Danny any favors and is all this drama really how you want to start your relationship with your daughter?”

Miles' glare got darker. Bass ignored it and just spread some apple butter onto his toast. Jeremy came in, pausing in the doorway with a look that indicated he may bolt. “It's okay, Jer. I'm done poking the bear this morning.”

“Yeah, but is the bear gonna poke back?”

Miles slapped the report folder in his hand on the table. “Damn it! Baker, sit down and fucking eat. He doesn't need your help.”

Baker grinned and came in, taking his usual seat. “It's good to have you home, General. The morning routine just isn't the same when you're absent.”

“That's for damn sure. Now he has someone else to torment. I've had to put up with him on my own since I got in. He almost made me mad enough to promote him.”

Baker put a hand to his chest in shock. “You wouldn't!” He liked being a captain. Anything higher came with too much political baggage. Looking around, he frowned. “Where's Charlotte?”

“Sleeping,” came the stereo replay from father and intended.

“Huh. Well, someone might want to wake her up. I saw Julia Neville and her usual posse having breakfast at that cafe she likes. Anyone want to lay down money on where they might be headed next?” Bass let his toast fall to his place with a pained 'fuck' while Miles groaned, hie had falling back. 

Miles sighed and pushed away. “I'm on it.”

“Don't wake her up, Miles. She looked exhausted.”

“I'm not waking up, Charlie. I'm gonna make it clear to the vultures that now is not the time to impose. We just got her back. The rest of the city can fucking wait.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are my drug of choice.


End file.
